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Christmas hiatus ... and announcement!

12/29/2013

With all of the prep for Christmas, internet sourcing, brick and mortar shopping, wrapping, labeling, parties, traveling, and so on, I have had scant time to even consider typing here. And then, there was me getting sick ...

In the end, and on top of everything else, Seattle stole us away for the entire week of Christmas. I've missed my mid-week and end-week post deadlines since my last, and am most unhappy about it. My most sincere apologies for the prolonged and only vaguely anticipated silence here.

For some time now, I have been looking into some way of automatically uploading ready-and-waiting posts here on some manner of date related schedule. That would have kept the ball rolling, at least. I do so love writing on the fly about the "now" of things, but I am looking into it this feature.

All of that being said, I do have an announcement to make:

On January 10, 2014, beginning at 8:00 pm, Emily Thompson, author of Clockwork Twist, Waking, and I with Echoes, Neo-Victorian Poetry, will be in a Steampunk book signing event at Caffe Frascati in Downtown San Jose, on January 10, 2014! We will have a table near the front door and may, if enticed, be reading from our books.

If you live in or near San Jose, California, or are planning to visit our burgeoning area in mid-January, we warmly invite you to attend this event and to visit our book-signing table. Fore more information about Caffe Frascati, please click here, where you can preview their enticing menu.

On behalf of Emily and myself, we look forward to seeing you there!

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Uh oh ... crickets ...

12/15/2013

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It appears that my muse is upset with me. Sadly, I can tell this by the response I get when I ask, "What shall we write a poem about now?" ... and all I hear in is the lonely, unsettling sound of crickets.

I've had so many random and essential tasks to attend to lately, and each of them left me little option but to ignore her nudging whispers, though I desperately wished that I could just stop and jot them down.
I can sense the presence of my muse, muted now by my persistent inattentiveness, and I certainly can't blame the poor thing for sulking around some corner, close at hand, yet just out of reach.

I've heard of some writers who try various maneuvers and ingenious tricks to coax their inspiration back out of hiding. Some have even resorted to one magic brew or another to achieve this end.

Well, I have begun to clear the decks of all truly unnecessary items, and will employ what has always works for me: I'll give my muse a little time, and room, to fully exhaust her well deserved pout.

This is not the first such spat I've had with my inspiration. There have been many long dry spells in my writing career, and I expect that there will be more yet again. But, not to worry.

Eventually, we will be composing again as if nothing at all was amiss. This is a lesson that I learned long ago, and which bears relearning over time: neither force nor bribery nor any substance known will win my muse home again quite like that of patiently abiding.

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Busy is as busy does ...

12/13/2013

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There are a few drawbacks associated with being a writer, one's own publicist, and having an always busy life ... one of which is: finding time to write. Even this blog suffers delayed posts from time to time.

With blogging, there is a cardinal rule of: post regularly and post on time. I've never greatly appreciated rules, (except for those that govern my writing style), but I do strive to follow this one.

Meanwhile, with a weather eye on my bulging calendar, as I wade through flurries of post-it notes, I find myself involved in successive, unexpected, and always urgent tasks, which are usually wholly unrelated to poetry or to my current writing project.

Always, there are promotional events to search out, secure, and schedule, and a few remnant bookstores to approach in hopes that they will, for a fee, graciously stock a few copies of Echoes.

This afternoon, I made my way to a local venue and finalized arrangements for a book reading/signing event, which is now slated for January 10th and ... wait, there's the phone again ...

... So, within this maelstrom of myriad activities, where does one find time to actually write? At this moment, I am two days late in posting here, and have written neither jot nor tittle, in my book.

Yet, potential tidbits do get through occasionally. Just this morning, I realized an important edit that I need to make to an older poem, and once I have posted this blog entry, I will go to work on Emery before my busy, upcoming weekend elbows all else aside.

This life of mine is rather like juggling feathers and rocks and fistfuls of sand while maneuvering through a seemingly endless labyrinth. It can easily lead to exhaustion, exhilaration, or even anxiety, but in my sometimes down time, I finally, thankfully, actually get to write.

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Serendipity, she calls it ...

12/8/2013

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Some see happenstance where others see blessings. Cali Gilbert, author of It's Simply Serendipity: Four Steps To Manifesting a life of Bliss, and the It's Simply... book series, is acutely aware of life's wonderful gifts in nuance.

Hers is a riveting saga of a life transformed through heartbreak, and excruciating loss, into one of profound purpose. For Cali, serendipity is much more than mere happenstance; it bespeaks a willing release of expectation, an anticipation of opportunity, and a willingness proceed however she is led.

So, in this vein, how is it, that Echoes found its way onto the shelves of many branches within the San Jose Public Library System? How, indeed, did Echoes ever even come to exist in the first place?

Emily Thompson wrote and self-published an adventure novel, titled Clockwork Twist. Having accomplished that, she turned to me and said, "Mom, it's time to publish your poetry now, too." Done.

That year, I applied to work with ESL students at my local library branch. During a tour of the ESL area, I was introduced to the very person who was in charge of preparing and conducting that library's very first Author Fair ...

... who then informed me that the fair would showcase local authors. Right away, I let her know that I,and my daughter, had recently self-published a book each. She seemed very interested, so I handed her our business cards.

Very soon, we were invited to participate in the Author Fair. We sold and signed our books, spoke at the podium in front of a live camera, and were afforded an opportunity to donate our books to the library system. Voila!

In essence, one thing has led to another, in a straight and unanticipated line, that I find myself following to some as yet invisible point. As Cali might say, it's all in the journey, and allowing the details to come as they may.

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Lost in real life...

12/5/2013

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Challenge me, by all means, with some uncharted image, or an as yet untilled idea to work on, and I will happily navigate my way through all those eddies, dales, and hollows to the furthest extent; just don't ask me, out there in the real world, which way is North or South.

Such was the case today as I headed for an innocuous appointment.
I was well acquainted with route to the general vicinity of the office, and that particular portion of the drive was easy enough, but I soon became very lost in the veritable maze of the office complex.

I consulted my navigation device, again and again, as I drove through the sprawling multiplex of narrow streets and detached buildings, and ended up even more hopelessly lost. I asked someone walking by for directions, but they had no idea where that office was.

Then it hit me, as I ran further and further behind schedule: call the office and ask for their help. I was instructed to, "Go South to the main street and then hang a right." Hmm ... "I don't can't tell which way is South," I mumbled. A momentary silence ...

"You know, towards the coast," she said softly. The coast happens to be well and gone beyond a range of the tall mountains that ring this valley, hence hidden from view. Breathe deep, I thought, and try again. "I'm sorry, but I just don't know ..."

The receptionist, a paragon of patience, eventually asked me to get back into my car, and she would direct me. With my blue tooth live in my ear, she began to guide me thusly: "Okay, what do you see? Good, now turn right. That's it, Now turn left," and so on.

A few minutes later, and now twenty minutes late, I managed to park right in front of the correct office, with my navigation device now indicating that I should drive around the building, again.

At last, entering the cozy lobby, I gave a deep, cathartic sigh and alternately thanked and apologized to the gracious lady behind the counter. Her unfazed smile gave me hope that I might not be the only one to ever need such exorbitant help.

After my appointment, I approached the counter and handed her a copy of Echoes. "I'd like you to keep it as a Christmas gift." I told her. She was delighted, looked it through a bit, and offered to purchase another copy for her coworker. I smiled, pointed at Echoes, and said, "I can't tell North from South, but I can do this!"

We shared a wonderful laugh that just seemed to wash away all of my remaining embarrassment. On my way to the front door, I promised to return with another copy of my book ... and she patiently gave me detailed instructions for exiting the labyrinthine parking lot.

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Blush and hide no more.

12/2/2013

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I am, by no means, an introvert ... except for those instances when I find myself in front of a live microphone. Then, the weighty significance of what introversion actually feels like hits home.

So, one minute I'm sitting at a table, blithely chatting away with an open mike emcee, and the next, as I approach that mike, a switch is abruptly thrown: my cheeks get warm, my hands begin to tremble, and I go every shade of uncontrollably shy.

So, what exactly is "Stage Fright?" How does one deal with it? The only person I have ever know who, by his own admission, is complete immune to it, is a brilliant comedian named Kevin Pollak.

From early childhood, Kevin performed freely, for family and friends, at every opportunity. For him, being the comic focus of everyone's attention comes easily. This is not yet the case for me.

However, I'm finding that it is not the time at the podium that brings out my bashful side, but the approach to that spot in the spotlight. Once I'm there, and reading aloud, I relax into the poem in hand.

Ah, but then there's the return trip, back through the room, to retake my seat. That bit is a little easier. Once I'm sitting and watching, willing my nerves to settle, I become my old gregarious self again.

In just about any other situation involving people, I have no qualms, at all. I love social interactions, where we are all evenly situated on the floor. What am I missing here?

Well, I've been giving this a long hard think, and I have made up my mind to make myself enjoy, actually enjoy, approaching the mike, reading my poems to the ready crowd, and sitting back down.

As I work my way forward, past anticipatory dread and self-doubt, I'll make note of my progress here. If nothing else, it might prove to be good fodder for a new poem, but I'd much rather just win this thing.

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Christmas hiatus ... and announcement!

Uh oh ... crickets ...

Busy is as busy does ...

Serendipity, she calls it ...

Lost in real life...

Blush and hide no more.

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